


Misery Mountain

by SageMcMae



Series: Sage's Reylo Oneshots [20]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Inmate Clyde, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Southern Gentleman Clyde Logan, Teacher-Student Relationship, teacher rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMcMae/pseuds/SageMcMae
Summary: “Welcome, Mr. Logan.”Clyde glanced at the lithe woman standing by the whiteboard. Her brown hair was pulled back with a few loose strands framing her freckled face. In the light, he could see the emerald and gold flecks in her hazel orbs. She was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen— so gorgeous that it took him a minute to put two and two together.Shewas the teacher.Clyde finds the road to take him home to the place— and the person —he belongs (with).
Relationships: Clyde Logan & Rey (Star Wars), Clyde Logan/Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Sage's Reylo Oneshots [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350115
Comments: 90
Kudos: 394





	Misery Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Monday! I had this idea in my head for a while now and I finally took time over the holidays to write it down. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to my beta, [lovingreylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceBlessingsPeyton/pseuds/lovingreylo/works)!

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Logan?” Agent Grayson asked coolly. 

Clyde nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Why are you here?” 

“I reckon it’s on account of the heist,” he answered. 

“By heist, are you referring to the robbery at the Charlotte Motor Speedway last summer?” she inquired, shooting a glance at her peers stationed by the interrogation room door. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And can you explain how you— a single man with only one arm—.”

“Hand.”

Agent Grayson rested her hands on the table and leaned toward him. “Excuse me?” 

“I beg pardon, ma’am, but I’m a trans-radial amputee. I got two arms,” Clyde clarified. 

The FBI agent stared at him, knuckles white as she gripped the table. “My mistake.”

“It’s alright. I know you ain’t mean nothin’ by it,” he told her, even if they both knew that was a lie. 

Agent Grayson didn’t care what kind of amputee he was, just like she didn’t care that he’d confessed to the crime. She was gunning for his brother something awful. But Jimmy couldn’t afford the heat— not now when Sylvie was expecting a baby and Bobbie Jo was finally letting Sadie spend time with her father. 

Mommy had always said the only thing in life worth having was family. So Clyde did what he had to for his to stay together. He turned himself in. 

Mellie tried to stop him, bless her heart, but she had just as much to lose as Jimmy. She’d become assistant manager at the salon and moved in with Joe Bang. He wasn’t Clyde’s first choice for his baby sister, but— as Jimmy had repeatedly assured him— if anything happened Mel would hurt him six feet deep where no one would ever find the body. Mellie could take care of herself...

...as long as Clyde took care of this first.

“Mr. Logan, given your service record and the profitable status of your bar, can you explain why you felt the need to rob the Speedway?” Agent Grayson questioned. 

Clyde shrugged. He hadn’t expected them to ask why. How? Absolutely. When? Of course. With what? Sure. But _why?_ …well heck, he didn’t think they’d care about that. He thought about Jimmy’s robbery to-do list. Number three had read: Have a backup plan. And Clyde did. 

“They laid my brother off for liability reasons,” he answered smoothly. 

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Liability reasons?”

“On account of his leg,” Clyde explained.

Her gaze flickered to Agent Noonan. “Football injury,” the man stated. “It ruined his chances of joining the NFL.” Grayson didn’t appear impressed by the fact. To be fair, she didn’t seem to be the type impressed by much. 

“He was a big deal,” Clyde commented. “But even after he blew his knee out he was a hard worker. He shouldn’t have gotten canned.” 

“Noted,” Grayson grumbled. “How did you get out of Monroe County Penitentiary?” 

“The riot had people lookin’ the other way,” Clyde responded. 

She pursed her lips. “But you went back?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I had time to serve for losing control of my car.”

“Where did you gain the knowledge of the pneumatic tube system the speedway utilizes?” 

“My brother,” Clyde acknowledged. It wasn’t a lie. 

“Who helped you pull off the heist?” she surmised.

“No, ma’am. He was at his daughter’s pageant that day.”

Grayson glanced to the other FBI agent in the room, a dark-skinned woman whose name Clyde hadn’t caught. The woman gave Grayson a curt nod, confirming Clyde’s story. 

“One last question, Mr. Logan,” Grayson prompted. “Why did you abandon the money and alert the police? For that matter, why turn yourself in?” 

“That was three,” he pointed out. Agent Grayson arched an eyebrow at him. Clyde cleared his throat and answered, “It was the right thing to do.”

* * *

During the trial, the judge determined that Clyde would be remanded to United States Penitentiary, Hazelton. The Preston County facility was a high-security jail managed by the Federal Bureau of Prisons (FBOP). Grayson had chosen the location for two reasons. First, it was a four-hour drive from Boone following the I-79, which was patrolled by state troopers. And second, the prison had a nickname among its inmates: Misery Mountain. 

Clyde didn’t fight the verdict. With him locked up, Grayson was forced to move onto a new case— one that took her attention off his family and relocated her to Utah. He wasn’t sad to see her go. 

“We’re gonna come visit every week,” Mellie was saying as the guards escorted Clyde out of the courtroom to his transport. 

“Mel, you can’t visit more than once a month,” Clyde said with a sigh. 

“And I’ll bring pictures of the baby once he’s born,” Jimmy promised, ignoring Clyde’s remark. 

“I brought you a bag of gummy bears,” Joe mentioned, “but I kept ‘em in the car. Knew they’d be confiscated.” 

“Thanks,” Clyde muttered. 

“I don’t like this,” Jimmy grumbled, following him out of the courthouse. “It ain’t right. You’re a soldier, a goddamn hero, and—.”

“I’m lucky it’s only ten years,” Clyde reminded him.

Jimmy froze. “That’s a decade, Clyde! The baby will be in school by then. Sadie will be in college. You’re going to miss everything.” 

He fixed his brother with a stare. “I know.” 

Jimmy was still gaping when the doors of the transport closed on him. 

* * *

Misery Mountain didn’t live up to its name, at least not where Clyde was concerned. Unlike Monroe County, Hazelton employed a full medical staff. Clyde hadn’t gone to the doctor since his mother succumbed to her illness. He’d given hospitals a wide berth, but the staff at Hazelton was accommodating and offered a full list of health services that extended to dental cleanings. 

The prison also provided a variety of educational programs including certifications and vocational training. Clyde had never gone to college. He’d enlisted right after high school and flown overseas to fight. Even if he hadn’t chosen the military, there wouldn’t have been money for him to attend a fancy school like Bluefield or Glenville. The Logan family curse had made sure of that. 

He figured if he had to serve a ten-year sentence, the best way to get through it was to keep busy. As soon as he was able, Clyde signed up for every class he could, including one on British literature. The course met on Monday afternoons in the satellite building across the yard. He was permitted to attend as long as he had an escort to take him to and from class each week. Luckily, his Case Manager volunteered. 

Clyde appreciated Poe Dameron’s company. Unlike the correctional officers, Poe liked to chat— mostly about himself —which meant Clyde didn’t have to worry about making small talk. There were few things in life he loathed as much as small talk. It had been the only thing he hadn’t enjoyed about owning Duct Tape. He’d never been one for socializing much, preferring to keep to himself and lose himself in the words of better men. 

“So then I say to him, ‘Who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?’” 

Clyde chuckled. Poe’s stories, though greatly exaggerated, were always entertaining. Today’s tale was no exception. 

“The guy was huge and just,” Poe swiped his hand across his face, “no emotion whatsoever. And there I was with a black eye and a busted lip and all he would do was stare at me. I mean, can you imagine?”

“No, I reckon’ I can’t, sir,” Clyde replied as they strolled across the yard to the Camp. 

The secondary facility was a minimum-security building located adjacent to where Clyde resided. Under normal circumstances, he would have been sent there, but Grayson wanted him locked up in high-security containment. Since he’d already broken out of one prison, the judge agreed. 

“See? That’s why I like you, Logan,” Poe said, flashing him a grin. “You’ve got manners. You’re always on time for our meetings, never give the officers a hassle over lights-out, and even helped clean-up that mess in the cafe last week.”

“I don’t want no trouble. Just want to do my time and go home, sir,” He responded honestly. 

“Clyde, how many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Poe.”

“That ain’t how it works, sir,” Clyde reminded him about the rules. 

Poe waved off the warning. “You’re a good man, Clyde, which is why I’m going to offer you some advice,” his Case Manager told him as he opened the door to the Camp. “Be careful around Rey.”

“Ray?” 

“Rey Niima,” Poe clarified. "A lot of people try to take advantage at first and it doesn’t end well for them. I don’t know why they think they can get away with it. Maybe it’s because the course is taught over here or something. I’m not sure but the last guy who tried something got his ass handed to him, so just take my advice.” 

Clyde’s brow creased so deeply that he could feel his eyebrows brushing up against one another. Why would anyone think a prison teacher was easy to manipulate? “Yes, sir.” 

Poe chuckled. “Again with the sir bit. I’ll get you to call me Poe eventually.” 

“I wouldn’t count on it…sir.” 

“To be continued,” Poe relented as he came to stop in front of the classroom door. “Here we are 2187. I’ll be back in an hour to collect you.” 

“I’ll be here waiting,” Clyde acknowledged. 

Poe gave him a firm pat on the back and left him to walk inside. 

The door swung open with a creak, revealing the fullest class Clyde had seen to date. There must have been at least fifteen other inmates in the room. He scanned the available desks, trying to find one in the back so he didn’t obscure anyone’s view of the front. 

“Welcome, Mr. Logan.”

Clyde glanced at the lithe woman standing by the whiteboard. Her brown hair was pulled back with a few loose strands framing her freckled face. In the light, he could see the emerald and gold flecks in her hazel orbs. She was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen— so gorgeous that it took him a minute to put two and two together. 

_She_ was the teacher. 

There was a shortage of female staff at Hazelton, mostly because the entire inmate population was male. Clyde had noticed a couple of nurses, a cook, and some secretaries but that was the extent of it. Lord help him, none of those women looked half as beautiful as Miss Niima. It was no wonder her class was full. However, he did have some concerns about Poe’s reasoning skills. 

“Thank you for joining us. Please take a seat and we’ll get started,” she directed. 

He stumbled forward, nearly swallowing his tongue in an attempt to keep himself from saying something stupid in return. Taking a seat, he became acutely aware of how the desks were not made for a man of his size. 

Comfort, however, was the least of his worries. Once he sat down, his training kicked in and Clyde found himself scanning the room for signs of an incoming attack. His peers’ focus was forward, honed in on the slight form of their instructor. Clyde’s gaze flickered to her face briefly then he went back to scrutinizing the class.

“Before we begin, I’d like to take this time to point out that ninety-percent of your work is this class will involve reading. If that doesn’t interest you, I suggest you find another course more suited to your liking,” Miss Niima advised.

She paused for a moment but not a single person made a move to leave. 

“Very well then,” she said, as she opened up a notebook on her desk. “In this course, we will be focusing on the works of Chaucer, Dickens, Shelley, Wilde, and my personal favorites, the Bronte sisters. We will be analyzing the themes as well as the relation of the work to its historical time period and finally its impact on society today.” 

Miss Niima spent time reviewing the course syllabus, as well as her grading system, and her rules for classroom conduct. “I expect you to come to class prepared for our discussions. I request that you be respectful to your peers and keep an open mind about the topics we are reviewing and the opinions they share,” she announced. 

Her eyes swept over the room, pausing on him a beat longer than anyone else. Clyde resisted the urge to fidget, even though the arm of the desk was digging into his side. 

“Your first assignment will be Geoffrey Chaucer’s _Troilus and Criseyde_. I’m sure many of you are familiar with _The Canterbury Tales_ from primary school, but Chaucer is most famous for his epic poem depicting these lovers at the time of the Trojan War.”

Someone in the front row hummed the Trojan Man theme. 

Miss Niima didn’t appear to notice. Clyde, on the other hand, clenched his jaw. Didn’t their mama’s teach ‘em to show a lady respect? 

“For next week, please read the poem in its entirety and come prepared to discuss. Remember; participation is worth fifty-percent of your overall grade,” she stated. There was a round of murmurs and some nodding. “That will be all for today. See you next week.” 

She turned her back to the class, wiping the whiteboard clean for the next class. 

Clyde tensed, watching the sea of men rise and pass Miss Niima on their way to the exit. If anyone was going to make a move, now would be the time. Anticipation prickled along the nape of his neck as he witnessed the mass exodus. Sure enough, one man lagged behind. 

The redhead came around the desk, catching her between the whiteboard and himself. “Was that a Westminster accent I heard?" he inquired. 

“Class has been dismissed, Mr. Hux. Please return to your cell,” Miss Niima directed. 

“Now, now. There’s no need to be rude. I was complimenting you. It’s nice to hear a bit of the familiar, don’t you agree?”

“I can assure you, Mr. Hux, I don’t know what you mean. I’m going to ask you one more time. Please leave.” 

Clyde straightened up the second he saw Hux’s hand go for Miss Niima’s wrist. He knocked over a desk in his haste to get to the front of the room. But it didn’t matter because suddenly Hux’s face was smashed up against the whiteboard and his arm was wrenched behind his back at an unnatural angle. 

Clyde froze, stunned by Miss Niima’s tone as she spoke slowly to the man she’d disarmed. “You’d do well to remember, Mr. Hux that in this classroom, my word is law. So when I ask you to leave, you leave.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t tolerate disrespect in my classroom and I won’t allow you or your antics to affect my students while they are here to learn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Miss Niima.”

“You’re not going to be a problem again, are you, Mr. Hux? I’d hate to have to report this incident to your corrections officer.”

“No, I promise I’ll do the assignments and participate and pay attention,” Hux babbled frantically. 

“Good.” Miss Niima released him. She wiped her hands on the front of her pants. “I suggest you return to your cell now.” 

Hux didn’t respond. He just hurried out of the classroom, his head down. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Logan?” 

Clyde felt embarrassment burn through him, climbing to the tops of his ears. He was glad he hadn’t let Mellie cut it before his court date. 

“Just...uh...wanted to make sure he didn’t try nothin’,” Clyde admitted.

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Logan,” she thanked him, “but it’s not necessary. I wouldn’t be teaching here if couldn’t handle men like Mr. Hux.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She began to gather her things, slipping them into a worn leather satchel. “Was there something else you needed?” 

“No, ma’am. I gotta wait for my escort,” he explained.

“Ah, yes.” Miss Niima rolled her eyes. “I hope Mr. Dameron has been conducting himself in a professional manner.” When he didn’t immediately answer her, she sighed. “Of course, he hasn’t.” 

“Mr. Dameron is the reason I’m allowed to take this class, ma’am. I’m grateful.” 

Miss Niima lifted her hazel eyes to his face, searching for something. Whatever it was, she must have found it because she graced him with a dazzling smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

For a moment, they stood there with their eyes locked on each other— Miss Niima with her brilliant smile and Clyde with his hands sweating something fierce. 

“Hey, Sunshine!”

The smile disappeared instantly, along with Miss Niima’s professionalism. “Poe, how many times have I told you not to call me that at work?” she snapped, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, come on,” Poe whined. “It’s not like anyone’s going to say anything. Besides,” he patted Clyde on the back, “Logan, here, is a class act. You should be happy I brought you an actual student instead of those morons who come here to drool all over you.” 

If Clyde thought Miss Niima was angry before, it was nothing compared to how dark her eyes went at Poe’s quip. “You can wait out in the hall, Mr. Dameron,” she excused the Case Manager with the same tone of disdain she’d used on Hux. 

“But Rey—.”

“Out,” she ordered. 

Clyde saw Poe’s shoulders sag as he slumped out of the classroom. 

“He’s a challenge,” Miss Niima remarked, rubbing her temples. Clyde merely nodded. “I apologize for his candor. He thinks because he’s dating my brother he can get away with it,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter how many times I talk to him about boundaries, he just keeps crossing the line.” 

“I wouldn’t pay him no mind, ma’am,” Clyde consoled her. “Mr. Dameron ain’t the type to listen to reason.” 

Miss Niima laughed, and damn if it wasn’t the loveliest sound he’d ever heard. “I suppose you’re correct,” she told him with a smile. 

Clyde felt his blush returning and hastily turned away, busting himself with fixing the furniture he’d overturned on his race to the front of the room. 

“Mr. Logan, you don’t have to do that,” she said as she strung her bag over her shoulder. 

“It’s my responsibility, ma’am. Wouldn’t be right to just leave it here like that for the other students.” 

Miss Niima closed her eyes and sighed as she leaned back on her desk. When she opened her eyes, she stared directly at him. “Education is about bettering oneself. It’s never too late to discover something new. This is a learning environment, a safe place. You can refer to me as ma’am if that’s what you’re most comfortable with, but I’m only twenty-four. I’m not signing up for AARP anytime soon.” Her lips turned up in a smile and he realized she was teasing him. 

No one had ever looked at him with such intensity. It made Clyde think she wasn’t even seeing him, at least not his physical attributes. The way Miss Niima gazed at him was as though she could see the real him— not the broken man who had lost a hand, but the man who loved to read and sacrificed his freedom for his family. Part of him was scared, wanting to shrink away but another part of him was elated. After witnessing her stunning display of strength and unparalleled calm, he was convinced English Lit had just become his favorite course. 

“See you next week, Miss Niima.” 

“See you on Monday, Mr. Logan.” 

* * *

On Saturday morning, an officer led Clyde from his cell to the visitation room. He’d called Mellie on Monday night to request supplies. As excited as he was to see his family, Clyde was even more excited about the prospect of having his belongings at his disposal. 

“I brought you those books you requested,” his sister said as she pulled out the stack of texts. “Sorry about the cover on this one. The guards had to make sure they were clean and we were trying to smuggle anything in.”

Clyde hugged her. “Thanks, Mellie.” 

Jimmy was next, clapping his wide hands on Clyde’s back as he embraced his brother. 

The trio sat down at their designated table, Jimmy glaring at the guards as if they were to blame for Clyde’s current address. 

“How are you?” Mellie asked, her eyes full of concern. 

“Fine. Enrolled in some classes. Keepin’ busy,” Clyde answered. He didn’t want her to worry about him. “How are things at home?” 

“Yeah, Mel, how are things at home?” Jimmy inquired sarcastically. 

Clyde stiffened. Jimmy has been in a mood since he stepped into the room but Clyde assumed it was because he was in a striped jumper again. He didn’t like to think about the alternative. 

“Joe is having some...problems with the bar,” Mellie admitted, twisting her hands in front of her. “Fish and Sam haven’t stepped up the way he thought they would.” 

“No shit,” Jimmy scoffed.

Mellie kicked him under the table. “But I’m gonna handle it, Clyde, alright?” She started to reach for him but an officer barked at her. They weren’t supposed to touch except for hellos and goodbyes. 

She cleared her throat. “Earl is gonna pitch in when he can and—.”

“It ain’t right,” Jimmy grumbled. “Our brother takes the fall for us and what do you do? You hire your deadbeat boyfriend to run the business! He don’t know nothin’ about a bar. Now our brother won’t have anything to come home to.”

“I don’t see you helping,” Mellie snarled at her brother. “You’re too busy sucking up to Billie Jo and living in another state to care what happens at home.” 

Jimmy pointed a finger at her. “My daughter is my priority, so you stay out of it.” 

“Family should be your priority and you’re doing a piss-poor job of taking care of them, Jimmy,” Mel cried. 

Clyde stared at his siblings, bickering the way they had when their daddy died and again when mommy had passed. Back then, Clyde was the one to calm Jimmy’s anger. He’d been the one Mellie cling to as she cried in the privacy of her room, too proud to let anyone else see. He’d always been their rock, the quiet sibling who served as a sounding board. Without him to keep the balance, their personalities were clashing— both too big for their breeches. 

“That’s time,” his corrections officer announced. 

Clyde breathed a sigh of relief. He’d never liked it when his brother and sister fought. Hopefully, they’d be in a better mood next month. 

“I love you,” Mellie told him as she stood. She wrapped herself around him, burying her face in his chest. Clyde thought he heard a sniffle but then she was pulling herself away, mumbling about how she’d get things at the bar straightened out. 

“Hang in there,” Jimmy said, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll figure a way to get you back home soon.” 

“Now don’t you go on about your cauliflower schemes,” Clyde warned him. 

“It ain’t a scheme,” Jimmy protested. “You could get released early for good behavior.”

“Yeah, sure,” Clyde agreed. 

He hated lying to his kin but he knew with absolute certainty that if Agent Grayson had a say in his future, he wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

“Bollocks!” 

Clyde peered up from his reading to scan the library. He didn’t see anyone around but he recognized the voice. Marking his place, he got up and wandered over to the stacks. 

Sure enough, he found the slender form of Misery Mountain’s only female teacher. She was reaching for a large text on the top shelf, muttering a litany of curses under her breath each time her fingertips grazed the spine. 

“Miss Niima?” 

Her hand retracted from the book as if she’d been burned. “Cly— Mr. Logan.” 

He wished he could hear her say his first name. He wanted to hear how it sounded in her accent. He wanted to hear _every_ word in her accent. 

“Do you need a hand?” Clyde asked.

“Please. I’m working on my thesis,” she informed him as he retrieved the text, titled _The Law of Higher Education_.

“For your Masters?” he surmised, handing the book over.

Miss Niima nodded. “Thank you. My topic is the impact of classroom management on student behavior and character development in specialized institutions.” 

“Like Hazelton?” 

She smiled. “Exactly.” 

Her hand smoothed over the front cover before she wrapped her arms around the text, clutching it to her chest. She looked so perfect standing there with her hair down and her adorable smattering of freckles. Clyde wanted to trace each of those brown dots with his lips— kiss each mark before lowering his mouth to hers. Her mouth was parted ever so slightly as if she was about to say something. But he spoke first, realizing what day it was. 

Clyde’s brow furrowed. “Why you working on your thesis here? Ain’t it quieter at home? It is Sunday, after all.”

Her smile fell. “No, not when it’s football season and your brother wants nothing more than to see the Redskins win the Super Bowl. He’s become so American.” Her cheeks reddened and she quickly added, “No offense.” 

He smirked. She was cute when she was embarrassed. “You two grew up overseas?”

“Yeah, Finn and I were both picked up off the street as kids and ended up in the same group home,” she explained, pulling up a photo on her phone. She was seated with a dark-skinned man, eyes crossed and tongue out while he made bunny fingers behind her head. 

“Group home?” Clyde wasn’t familiar with the term. 

“It’s just a fancy term for an orphanage,” Miss Niima hastily explained, tucking her phone away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I…um….I had some trouble with the law when I was younger, petty theft mostly, and no one wants to adopt a teenager. They all want babies, so….” she trailed off with a shrug. 

“So you moved to America and became a teacher?” he guessed. 

“Basically. I had a great counselor, Ms. Erso. She’s the one who showed me how magical books could be,” Miss Niima revealed. “Because of her, I learned that I never needed to leave the group home. I could go anywhere I wanted, be anyone I wanted, through the words of others. You know what I mean?” 

Clyde nodded. He knew all too well. The freedom he got from reading was fulfilling. He suspected it was like the high Jimmy got when he won the state championship back in high school. Of course, Jimmy never liked to read. He didn’t understand Clyde’s love of books. 

But Miss Niima did. 

“After we aged out, Finn got a job here in the States. He’s the only family I’ve ever known so I got a work visa and came with him. The rest, as they say, is history.” 

“You ain’t explained why you’re working at a prison.”

“You seem surprised,” she said with a laugh. “I wanted to make a difference. I figured there were other people like me, who the system failed, or their families, or both. I thought I could share books with them, the way Ms. Erso did with me, and help them find a different path.”

Clyde’s chest filled with warmth. He hadn’t met many people who were as selfless as this woman. There were good people in Boone County. He wasn’t arguing that fact, but there was a difference between good people and great. Miss Niima was definitely in the latter category. 

“I’m talking too much,” she announced. “I’m sorry. I must be keeping you from your coursework.” 

“I don’t mind,” he replied before he realized what he was saying. “Erm…but you have work to do. I’ll let you get to it then. Nice seeing you, Miss Niima.” He gave her a little nod and strolled back the way he’d come. 

“Rey.”

He paused at the end of the stacks, sure he’d misheard her. “Pardon?”

“We aren’t in class and I’m pretty sure we’re the only two people here,” she pointed out, chewing on her lower lip. “You can call me Rey…if you want, that is.”

“Clyde,” he said, turning to offer her his good hand. 

She shook it gently, her eyes never leaving his face. 

It was a basic social interaction— nothing to write home about —and, yet, it felt like the start of something. 

When he fell asleep that night, it was with her smile on his mind and the whisper of her name on his lips. 

* * *

It became a ritual of sorts. Every Sunday, Clyde would go to the library and each time he’d find Miss Niima— Rey —already there, hard at work on her paper. They would talk about their lives outside of Misery Mountain. He told her about his family, the bar he’d build from scratch when he was discharged from service, and how much he loved he loved Bob Segar. Rey shared stories about growing up in a group home, how she’d learned to defend herself from the bigger kids, and how fascinated she was by country music. 

In the class, things were different. He was careful to only ever referred to her as Miss Niima. Even though they couldn’t speak openly to one another, Clyde still looked forward to Monday afternoons. He learned to read her expressions, able to detect her reaction based on how much her eyes crinkled at the corners or how her lips twitched. Clyde had always enjoyed reading words but he loved reading Rey. 

Everything about her, from her light-as-a-bell laughter to her low bullshit tolerance was attractive. Based on what she’d told him, Clyde understood how Rey could handle the inmates. She was a survivor— just like him. 

And just like him, she preferred the solace of the barely-used library, the company of books, and— as he recently found out —burned bacon. He’d nearly gone down on one knee and proposed to her right then and there. The only reason he hadn’t was because he didn’t have a ring. If he was going to ask the most perfect woman in the world to marry him, he had to have a ring. 

He was getting ahead of himself. 

Rey had her entire life before her. She didn’t need to be tied down to a one-handed bartender with a criminal record. Besides, she’d never indicated she saw him as anything more than a friend and even that was a stretch, considering where they were. He was fairly certain relations between staff and inmates were prohibited. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Poe from getting him a Christmas present. 

“It’s about a heist so I thought you’d like it,” Poe said of the book he bought him, Artemis by Andy Weir. 

“Thank you, sir.” Clyde hugged his Case Manager. 

The thoughtfulness caught him off guard, especially since he’d only expected gifts from Jimmy and Mellie. As promised, Jimmy brought a picture of his new son, Mason, named for their father. Mel bought him a book light so he could read in his bunk after lights out. 

“And I have one more surprise,” Poe announced, opening his office door. 

Rey walked in, dressed in a red sweater and black skinny jeans that threatened to unravel Clyde. 

“You have five minutes,” Poe told her, then he left, close the door behind him. 

“Happy Christmas,” Rey said by way of greeting. Her eyes were intense and he could see her bristling with nervous energy. She was practically busting at the seams. 

“Merry Christmas,” Clyde returned. 

She opened her satchel and pulling out a carefully wrapped package. Rey placed it in his hands, leaning against Poe’s desk expectantly. Slowly, Clyde removed the wrapping paper. _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_. His breath caught in his throat. 

“It’s the first book I ever read,” she explained. “I wanted you to have it.” 

Clyde ran his thumb over the well-worn cover. The novel had dog-eared pages and tea stains in spots, but it was magnificent because it was hers. It even smelled like her— summer rain, grass, and wildflowers. 

He swallowed, wondering if Rey realized what she had done. She’d given him a part of herself, an intimate part she’d seen fit to share with him. She might as well have told him she loved him. 

Maybe she was. 

His head started spinning and his pulse quickened. Was that what she was trying to tell him? “Rey, this is—.”

“I’m leaving,” she interrupted. 

Clyde blinked, feeling his heart plummet into his stomach. “W-what?”

“Hazelton,” she clarified quickly. “I’m leaving Hazelton. I got a job teaching Advanced Placement English at a high school right here in West Virginia.” 

“A local school? Where?”

She bit her lower lip and Clyde held his breath, fearing her answer. 

“Boone County.” 

He’d never had a heart attack before, but he was sure he was about to. She’d quit her job— the job she loved —to move four hours away and teach at a high school? A high school in his hometown. His town, where he would be living when he’d finished serving his sentence...in another nine years and three months. 

“Clyde, say something,” Rey’s voice wavered. Her hands were gripping the desk so tight he thought Poe would have to pry her off with a crowbar. 

“Why?” The word came out hard and flat, not at all the way he meant it.

Her eyes widened. “I thought...I mean, after we...,” she trailed off. 

He tried to think of something to say, anything to stop the tears from trailing down her cheeks. 

Poe knocked, announcing their time was up. The instant he opened the door, Rey was gone. 

* * *

It had been a month since Rey walked out on him and two weeks since she’d left Misery Mountain. The day Clyde had watched her hand in her badge was the first time he felt like the prison had earned its name. 

“You really stepped in it,” Jimmy told him. 

“Why didn’t you tell her how you feel, Clyde?” Mellie asked. 

“How could I? She deserves better than me— half a man with half a life.” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “No, I did her a favor.” 

“Shut up,” Jimmy snapped, pointing a finger in Clyde’s face.

“Get that away from me,” Clyde grumbled. 

“Not until you wise up,” Jimmy returned. “Daddy and Mommy didn’t raise you to give up.” 

“Well, they ain’t here, are they?” 

“Clyde,” Mellie said with a sigh. “She loves you.”

“She ain’t never said—.”

“She moved to Boone County,” Mellie cut him off with a pointed look. 

“So?”

“So?” Jimmy threw his hands up in the air. He’d always been one for the dramatics. “So? What girl in her right mind would move to Boone if she didn’t have to?” 

“Ain’t nothing wrong with Boone,” Clyde responded testily.

“Then why are you upset she chose to move there, huh?” 

“She deserves better.”

“Better than you? Why, hell boy, you’re the best man I know,” his brother cried indignantly. “Who is better than you?”

Clyde shrugged. Jimmy muttered a curse before trying again, “Did you even try to get out early on parole so you could meet up with her?”

“Grayson would never—.”

“You let us worry about Miss FBI Lady,” Mel interrupted, pulling out her emery board to file her nails. “We’re already working on that.” 

“What?” His siblings shared a conspiratory glance and then smirked at him. Clyde felt the color drain from his face. “What did you two do?” 

* * *

It turned out that Jimmy and Mel made a good team— once they realized they needed to swallow their pride. Jimmy had saved one last bag from the heist. He called it his insurance policy. With some help from Earl, who had kin out in Utah, and a truck borrowed from Moody’s lot, they’d gone west to set things right.

No one was as surprised as Clyde, well, except for maybe Agent Noonan, who discovered the cash in his supervisor’s hotel room. Suddenly, all eyes turned away from the Logan family and onto Grayson. Her cold demeanor, accolades in strategic espionage, and fervor during the heist investigation only persuaded the judge that she was the real culprit. She was stripped of her badge and sent to an undisclosed location.

“Should have known you were innocent,” Poe commented as he walked Clyde out one final time. “You always were calm and respectful, not like the other guys in here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Aw, come on, Logan. You’re really going to keep calling me that?”

“Yep.”

Poe chuckled. “Alright, I’ll let it go this time, as long as you promise me one thing. Say hi to Rey for me when you see her.”

Clyde stumbled into the Intake and Release counter. The officer on duty, an older man with blue eyes and a weathered face, didn’t startle. He merely dug into a plastic bin and produced Clyde’s dog tags, his wallet, and his house keys.

As he pocketed his personal effects, the officer slid a clipboard forward. “Sign here,” he directed Clyde to a line at the bottom of the release form. No sooner had Clyde provided his John Hancock than the man was pulling the clipboard back inside his office and moving onto his next task.

Poe slapped an arm around Clyde’s massive shoulders, guiding him to the exit. “Why the long face, Logan? You got your life back.”

Clyde closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His family had come through for him. They’d granted him the freedom to return to his hometown, work at the bar, and live in his house. Things would return to normal. He’d work and clean and read and sleep and eat and....

...be alone.

“She misses you, you know,” Poe added as if reading his thoughts.

“I made her cry,” Clyde admitted.

“Love is messy. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the movies. Love— _real love_ —is painful and exhausting and it breaks you down,” Poe told him. “But it builds you back up. It makes you a better person because real love inspires you to be more than you are. It lets you grow into the person you were born to be.”

“How you figure?”

Poe gestured to himself. “Look at me— devilishly handsome, charisma out the whazoo, and the brains to boot.”

Clyde made a face. Apparently, Poe’s reasoning skills hadn’t improved over the last few months.

“But I’m impulsive and it’s gotten me in trouble. Now that I’m with Finn, I think before I act.”

Clyde raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Well, I try,” Poe confessed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “The point is they make us better because we want to be better for them. It’s worth all the messy stuff. At the end of the day, they are yours and you are theirs.”

“Thanks...Poe.”

His former Case Manager’s eyes went wide. “Logan! Did you just call me by my name?”

“Yep.”

“I knew it!” Poe cried victoriously. “I knew I’d break you down eventually.”

Clyde didn’t have the heart to tell him that they had crossed the property line before he said it.

* * *

Home was exactly the same as when he’d left. That was the thing about living in a small town; time passed slower here, like molasses in winter.

Mel dropped him off, telling him she’d be by in the morning to help him weed and get things under control. He thanked her and waved as she pulled out of the drive. As grateful as he was to her, Clyde didn’t need an audience for what he planned on doing next.

The Boone-Madison Public Library was situated along Main Street. It had recently been renovated, a decision due in large part to the generous donation they’d received about a month after the heist investigation closed. Clyde had Earl to thank for that.

As he strolled inside, Clyde was pleased to see improvements to the circulation desk, as well as a new line up of computers for those who couldn’t afford their own. It seemed his money had gone to good use.

He headed towards the second floor where the nonfiction and classical literature titles were housed. It had always been the quietest part of the library, making it his favorite. He hoped his hunch was right.

Turning the corner by the Law section, Clyde saw her.

Rey was standing in the middle of the aisle, murmuring softly to herself as she skimmed a large textbook. Her brow was creased in concentration and she was chewing on her lower lip, a habit he’d noticed she did when she was nervous or deep in thought.

Clyde felt his chest warm at the sight of her. Seeing her here, in his town, in his library, made him feel more at home than stepping foot into his house. Poe was right. Being with Rey would be worth whatever pain he had to endure.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am, but it’s fifteen minutes to close.”

The book fell to the floor and Rey whirled around to face him. “You’re here,” she said in a breathy voice.

He nodded.

“Poe said they were releasing you,” Rey mentioned as she knelt to retrieve the text.

“He says hi,” Clyde shared.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, ignoring Poe’s message.

“Figured the library was a safe bet, it being Saturday and all,” he explained.

Rey didn’t reply. She just stared at the floor, crossing her arms over her torso protectively.

Clyde’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he ran his hand down his face. This was what he’d been dreading: awkward silence. It was uncomfortable and he’d never been uncomfortable around Rey before. She’d always been easy to talk to, easy to read. That had been before— before he’d made her cry and she walked out —and he had to make up for his lapse in judgment.

“I’m sorry.”

Her gaze flickered up to his face momentarily before returning to the floor.

“I didn’t want you giving up your life for me. I thought,” he paused, pursing his lips. “I ain’t much of a man, Rey, and Boone ain’t much of a place. Not fancy or nothing. Not much in the way of opportunity around these here parts. And I thought...I thought you deserved more.”

“What about what I thought?” she questioned. Clyde caught the way her lip trembled and heard the cracks in her voice. “I think I deserved to choose for myself. I think I choose you, Clyde Logan.”

“I’ve held your book every day since you gave it to me,” he admitted. “I kept it under my pillow. Like I said, I ain’t much of a man. I’m selfish. I had no right to, but I missed you.”

“You have every right. I missed you too.”

A tear slipped free from her hazel eyes and it broke him. Clyde moved at the same time she did, the two crashing together somewhere in the middle. His lips found hers and he melted.

Rey leaned back just long enough to say, “Take me home, Clyde.”

He’d never been happier to follow an order.

* * *

They hadn’t stopped touching since the library. Clyde stole a kiss at the parking lot stop sign. Rey put her hand on his thigh when she leaned into it and never let go. To say that her touch was distracting was an understatement. It was a good thing Rey drove. Clyde was sure he wouldn’t have ended up in court again.

Rey lived in Post Ridge, which was only a stone’s throw from Duct Tape. Clyde wondered if she’d ever visited his bar but that thought was tossed quickly aside— along with their clothes —the moment she slammed her front door shut.

Grabbing his hand, she led him into her bedroom. He didn’t get a chance to look around before she was on him. Clyde didn’t have time to be nervous, not when Rey was busy peppering his skin with kisses and tangling her fingers in his hair. The heat of each touch was scorching, an invisible brand marking him as hers. She consumed him like fire, burning across his skin and devouring everything in her path.

When her fingertips grazed the harness of his prosthetic, Clyde stiffened. Rey stepped back, lifting her eyes to his. “Can I?”

He nodded wordlessly. While she carefully undid the clasps and unwound the cable, Clyde held his breath. He’d never let anyone take his arm off before, not even family.

“Do you want to stop?” Rey asked, searching his face.

“No,” Clyde insisted.

She hesitated, but he placed his hand over hers and helped her finish the removal. Once the attachment was gone, there was nothing left but bare skin.

It was the most vulnerable Clyde had ever been around anyone. He was never the popular type— not the way his older brother was. There had been girls here and there, before Iraq, but they couldn’t even meet his eye once he returned.

And then there was Rey, who was staring at him as if he was Fitzwilliam Darcy crossing the English moor. She didn’t just meet his eyes, she held them.

“I love you,” he blurted out, face blooming red.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Rey replied, rising to her tip-toes and draping her arms over his shoulders. “Because I love you, too.”

Clyde scooped her up, delighting in the way she squeaked in surprise. He positioned her on the bed, taking care due to its size. The double wouldn’t fit both of them long-term but he’d make do.

Rey’s hair fanned out along her pillow, a halo of chestnut framing her tanned skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her, unable to keep the admission from tumbling out.

“You are too,” she responded, smoothing her hands up his bare chest.

Clyde shivered. Her touch was addictive. He wanted to feel it every day for the rest of his life— he wanted _her_ for the rest of his life.

Their breath mingled together first, then their hands, their mouths, and finally their hips. Rey squeezed his hands and her brow creased. He started to ease out when she locked her legs around his torso.

“Keep going. Please.”

It was the please that undid the remnants of his control. Clyde did as she asked, giving her everything he had, everything he’d kept pent up since the day he walked into her classroom.

When Rey screamed his name, the dam burst. He bowed forward, burying his face in her neck as his hips stuttered three more times. Then he was spent.

Gently adjusting them, Clyde rolled off, keeping his arms locked around her.

Noticing how his feet dangled off the end of her mattress, Rey apologized, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t you worry none,” Clyde told her, cradling her head. “Next time we do that, you’ll be in my bed. Where you belong.”

* * *

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Logan?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yep.”

“Miss Niima?”

“Yes,” Rey responded, beaming right back at him.

“Good.” The pastor chuckled. “The hard part is over.” The congregation laughed, but Clyde barely heard them. He was focused solely on the woman standing next to him, dressed all in white.

Later, he wouldn’t remember the words the pastor spoke, or the readings their friends had done. He couldn’t recall the fact his nephew had cried through most of the ceremony or that Joe Bang cried even more. He wouldn’t remember what he ate for dinner or how his wedding cake tasted. No, what Clyde remembered about his wedding day was Rey.

He recalled how his heart stopped when he saw her walk in, bathed in light like she was heaven on Earth. Like her namesake, Rey came down the aisle glowing. Wide eyes and bright smile, she was as pretty as a picture.

Clyde remembered how he heard her voice waver when she read her vows as she tried not to cry. He could still taste the salt of her tears when they kissed afterward, evidence that she wasn’t successful. He remembered how it felt to hold Rey to his chest when they shared their first dance as man and wife.

But most importantly, Clyde recalled how blessed he felt when he heard her say those two magic words.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- USP Hazelton is a real prison in northern West Virginia and they do offer classes and programs for their inmates. You can read up on it [here.](https://www.bop.gov/locations/institutions/haz/)  
> \- [The Boone-Madison Public Library](http://boone.lib.wv.us/) exists too.  
> \- As does Rey's apartment complex, Post Ridge.  
> \- Did anyone catch the unnamed SW character who made a cameo?


End file.
